


you're more than a dream

by carmiros



Series: we'll find out if love is the size of the oceans [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, M/M, aND A LOT OF FRENCH, aayyyy pining, ace/aro shitty knight, first kiss!!, gay shit, warnings for anxiety, you know the works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:30:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmiros/pseuds/carmiros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But when Jack looks at Eric Bittle, it’s obvious. Anyone can see the wave of emotion crashing across his face, causing his eyes to soften and lips to quirk up in a smile. The walls break down and it turns out that no matter what anyone says, Jack Zimmermann is not a robot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're more than a dream

**Author's Note:**

> you're gonna need google translate for this. lmao.
> 
> title from "out of my league" by fitz and the tantrums

Jack Zimmermann is a man of many secrets; he prides himself in that. He’s able to hide whatever emotion he’s feeling, bury it deep down so no one can ever find it. He is only Jack Zimmermann, prodigious son of a famous hockey player.

(Also the son of a famous hockey player and the one who accidentally tried to kill himself. The one who was a drug addict.)

But when Jack looks at Eric Bittle, it’s obvious. Anyone can see the wave of emotion crashing across his face, causing his eyes to soften and lips to quirk up in a smile. The walls break down and it turns out that no matter what anyone says, Jack Zimmermann is not a robot.

And Jack hates himself for that. To be vulnerable is a foreign concept to him, and one that he does not welcome. Ever since the accident Jack had become extremely good at being stable. He wasn’t drifting, lost and confused. He had one goal and one goal only: _Focus on hockey._ And he’d done a damn good job of achieving that goal.

So when this impossibly short, blond haired boy joins the team, Jack is frustrated. It’s not that the kid is rude or self-centered, it’s the exact opposite. He’s exhaustingly kind and friendly. This kid, Bittle, is the epitome of Southern hospitality, with his country accent and strange love for baking. He’s talented on the ice and a great asset to the team.

 _That’s_ what makes Jack so infuriated. He’s so infatuated with Bittle that it’s almost disgusting. He finds himself always staring, eavesdropping on conversations and going out of his way to spend more time with Eric. It’s terrible. It’s amazing. _Bittle_ is amazing.

More than once, Shitty has caught Jack watching Bittle. Every time Shitty says something along the lines of, “Go talk to him if you’re gonna keep staring,” and smirks whenever Jack flinches and looks away. But apparently enough is enough.

“Jack, I swear to God I’m gonna fucking punch myself if you keep staring at Bitty with those lovey-dovey eyes.”

Jack flinches, feeling the heat rise on the tip of his ears. He glares at Shitty. “I’m not.”

Shitty squints, taking a sip of his coffee, which ruins the effect. “Brah, you totally are. And have been since- what? The beginning of Bit’s freshman year?” He thinks on it for a moment then leans back. “Shit, yeah. I didn’t even realize.”

Jack runs a hand down his face, a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment setting his nerves on edge. “It has not been _that long._ ”

“Oh hell yeah, it has. If you weren’t interested, why else would you have set up private lessons with him?”

Jack clutches his cup of coffee, the plastic crackling. “Because if you want to play hockey, you can’t be scared of checking,” he says.

Shitty rolls his eyes. “Sure, sure, man,” Then his face gets serious. “Look, Jack, I just want you to be happy. Especially after Kent-”

“We agreed not to talk about that,” Jack grits out.

“I know but still. You need to move the hell on, brah.”

“Just for the record, I am over him.”

Shitty opens his mouth to say something but a familiar voice chimes out, “Thank you!” and Jack looks over to see Eric taking a frappucino from the barista. His eyes lock with Jack, who had subconsciously sat up straighter as soon as he noticed Bittle.

The blond smiles eagerly and walks over, taking a sip from his drink. Shitty snickers at how Jack’s eyes never move away.

“Hello again, Jack,” Bittle says as he slides into the nearest chair.

Jack can feel a smile coming on. “Hi, Bittle.”

Shitty coughs and Eric turns to look at him, offended. “I would never forget about you, Shits,” he reassures. “I don’t play favorites.”

“Why the fuck not? I’m amazing.”

“Yeah, you are but everyone else on the team is, too. Like Jack, for example.”

Jack nearly chokes as Bittle’s warm eyes settle on him. _Mon dieu_.

Shitty grins when Eric continues, “He’s a great captain, obviously. And great at hockey, I might add. He’s passionate and kind and polite. He’s also loyal. Even if he does draw hockey plays instead of paying attention in class,” Bittle adds, throwing Jack a condescending glare.

He scoffs in reply. “I do not.”

“Oh yes, you do,” Bittle says with a raised eyebrow. “You leave all the work to me.”

“I helped with that pie, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and I thank you for that.”

“Also, you can thank me for coming up with successful game plays.”

“But not in class!”

“I don’t need to know how to mix cake batter! That’s common sense!”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, you are ridiculous.”

“Am I really?”

Shitty had been watching the banter with a knowing grin, eyes flicking back and forth as if he was in a tennis match. Now, out of the corner of his eye, Jack sees Shitty staring at him and Eric expectantly.

As if Jack wanted to kiss him. Ridiculous. And as if Bittle wanted to. Even more ridiculous.

But Bittle’s eyes are sparkling and he’s grinning so hard his dimples peek out. The light is hitting his face at a perfect angle, making his hair glow a brilliant gold and causing his freckles to stand out and Jack wants to remember this moment forever, every single detail of it.

Then it shatters when Eric blinks, realizing that he’s staring, and he blushes. He looks away and says, “I’ll be right back.”

Jack manages, “Okay,” and looks down as Bittle leaves. When he looks back up, Shitty is grinning at him manically.

“Brah,”

* * *

 

Shitty had from then on taken it upon himself to become Jack’s matchmaker. He made sure that Jack and Bittle shared a room and a seat during the away games. He invited them to study groups and out for lunch, as if he _enjoys_ being the third wheel.

But Jack likes being with Eric. He feels himself slowly becoming happier, more willing to smile and laugh and joke around.

As Jack and Bitty lay on opposite beds in the hotel room, Jack realizes that this- whatever this is- isn’t so bad. Bitty doesn’t make Jack weak. He thinks, as Bitty turns the light out and says, “Goodnight, Jack,” that Eric makes him better. Better than he could ever be alone.

Then Kent Parson comes back.

* * *

 

_You’re worthless. I’m the only one who will ever care about you. Everyone thinks you’re a freak. You push everyone away._

Jack feels his mind blurring, thoughts running together, toppling over one another in order to be heard. He can’t _focus_ , he’s drifting off and he can’t feel the way his body shakes and-

A gasp escapes from his lips and he puts his head between his legs, trying to get rid of the tightness in his throat. But he _can’t_ because he’s lost control and he can’t shake the feeling that his head is disconnected from the rest of his body, floating high above the ground.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door but Jack doesn’t hear it properly, feeling as if he’s underwater.

Then a voice rings through, hesitant. Scared. “Jack?”

Eric.

Oh God, he can’t see Jack like this. He’ll think he’s a freak. But he overheard what Kent said so doesn’t he already?

Jack finds it much, much harder to breathe around his tight throat.

“Jack, please.”

A ragged gasp escapes from Jack’s lips. The doorknob wiggles. “Jack!”

Everything is blurry. His face is cold. “Please.”

Jack notices how dark the room is. He hears retreating footsteps.

* * *

 

It gets okay again. It takes awhile, but it does. Jack has trouble sleeping for a week, his nerves standing on edge. Eventually he controls it, breathing deeply until consciousness fades.

What’s most important is that Bitty doesn’t leave. He carries on as if nothing happened, smiling at Jack as if he were the Sun. He doesn’t ask, and Jack feels strangely grateful for that.

It gives him a sense of peace, knowing that Bitty chose to stay. It’s as if he didn’t care about the things he heard, as if he thought Jack was worth something. Maybe he is, judging by the way Bittle looks at him. Jack sure as hell knows that Bittle means something to him.

Jack knows that he doesn’t want to leave Bitty, even as graduation approaches.

One day over lunch, Eric asks, “Have you decided yet?”

Jack looks up from the menu. “On what?”

He gets an incredulous look in response. “What team you’re going to play for.”

“Oh,” Jack shrugs, glancing out the window. He feels his hands begin to sweat. “I’m not sure. I want to be somewhere close to here.”

He looks back at Bitty and sees wide eyes. His eyebrows furrow together and he says, “What?”

Bitty squeaks out, “Why?”

Jack blinks. What does he say? Because he likes Boston? That he wants to hold onto the memories of his time at Samwell? So he can still visit the Haus? Because he doesn’t want to leave Bitty, because he wants to be as close as Bitty will allow?

Instead Jack answers, “I don’t know.”

Bittle swallows, getting over his initial surprise. Eventually he says, “Oh. Okay. I was just wondering.”

But Jack sees the way Eric fidgets and the words “Did I say something wrong?” are forcefully stuck in his throat.

Bittle looks at him and his lips curve into a half smile. “Do you know what you’re gonna get?”

* * *

 

“You gotta tell him, bro,” Shitty says as they pick up their graduation robes. “Don’t leave without telling, that’s the number one rule.”

Jack snorts. “How would you know?”

“Fuckin’ excuse me, I happen to be a certified love doctor.”

“You’re aromantic,” Jack retorts drily.

Shitty almost throws up his hands up in exasperation then remembers that he’s carrying a robe and cap. “Do you even know how many people I’ve gotten together? A lot. It doesn’t matter if I don’t want any action, I am a wise teacher of love.” Jack crinkles his nose at _teacher of love_ , but Shitty pays no attention to it. “And I am here to advise you on how to get Bits!”

“I’m not ‘getting him-’” Jack adds air quotes for more emphasis, “-and besides, it’s not like he’s interested anyway.”

Shitty stops. Jack turns, sighing at how melodramatic this idiot can be. The idiot in question gawks at him, mouth open in sheer disbelief. Jack lets out another sigh.

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?” Shitty exclaims and people turn to look.

Jack’s shoulders tense. “Yes, now come on-”

“Do you really think that Bits isn’t interested? Are you _blind_?”

“Yes, and that’s why I wear contacts.”

“He is _so_ interested.”

Jack throws his hands up in the air, ignoring how his cap and gown fall to the ground. “What do you want me to do then?”

“ _Put your damn big boy pants on and claim that fucking ass!_ ”

People are definitely starting to stare now, but Jack is far beyond the point of caring. He just glares at Shitty and snaps, “Do you just want me to grab the microphone and say, ‘Oh, by the way, I really want to date Eric Bittle so if he’d come forward and make out with me right now?’”

Shitty points an accusing finger. “Don’t get sassy with me, Zim.”

“I’m leaving.” Jack picks up his cap and gown angrily, stomping out like a toddler. He isn’t proud to admit that to himself, but that’s how it was.

Really though, who says things like that in front of other people? It was insensitive and rude and Jack really wants to punch a wall.

“ _Enfant de chienne_ ,” he mutters as he walks across the quad.

When Shitty falls into step with him, Jack doesn’t stay anything. Shitty lightly punches him in the arm and he looks over to see an apologetic smile.

“Bitty does dig you though,” Shitty says. “It’s really obvious.”

Jack blinks.

“You didn’t notice, did you?”

Jack shakes his head, still trying to wrap his head around this.

“You need to tell him, man.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann,”

An uproar results as Jack steps up, bashfully looking down at his feet. He sees teachers watch him, beaming with pride.

Everything seems surreal as Jack shakes the dean’s hand, taking his diploma. His body seems to be moving through molasses, hardly able to move down the steps and away from the stage. Jack manages to look up and, immediately, he sees Bitty.

They lock eyes and Bitty grins, shooting him a thumbs up. Jack dumbly waves back, thinking back to what Shitty said. _Tell him the truth before you go._

And now he’s leaving, isn’t he?

His body betrays him, sitting down with the other graduates. _Later_ , he tells himself. _Later_.

But when Jack breaks through the crowd, his mind seems to stop. It can only focus on the mass of bodies swarming around him and how the Sun is beating down on his back. Jack has to shake his head in order to clear the fog. He can’t mess this up.

It’s not like he’s pressuring himself into doing it; he wants to. Every time he looks at Bitty he feels like he’s going to burst and do something stupid. So Jack takes a deep breath and-

“Jack!”

_Merde._

Jack turns around and only sees a flash of gold before he’s tackled. Bitty is laughing into Jack’s chest, familiarly warm from the summer heat and smelling strangely of pecan pie. It’s so _Bitty_ that Jack melts into the hug, noting how perfectly Bitty sits in his arms. He feels the fabric of Bitty’s suit and notices for the millionth time how nice his cologne smells.

Bitty pulls away, face flushed. “Congrats!”

Jack opens his mouth to speak but the words are stuck in his throat.

_I’m staying here for you. Everything I’ve done is for you, because you make me better. You make me happy. I love seeing you every day and I love your passion for baking, as strange as that is.  I want to stay with you. I never want to leave you.  Please say that you’ll stay too._

Nothing comes out of his mouth.

Bitty cocks his head to the side, frowning. “Are you okay?”

All at once, his body kicks back into gear and Jack gasps out, “Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you.”

Bitty smiles again, edges curling into a smirk. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? Your college days are officially over!”

Suddenly Jack’s father wraps an arm around Jack, causing him to flinch. His father doesn’t notice, just keeps beaming.

“I’m so proud of you!” He says, and it actually sounds genuine.

One of his hockey friends pops out from behind with a lopsided grin. “You’re an adult now, kiddo!”

“Yay,” Jack deadpans without thinking. His ears automatically burn as a shocked silence ensues, but his dad bursts out laughing.

Jack looks over at Bitty, who laughs awkwardly and takes a discrete step backwards, wringing his hands.

“Bittle, are you coming to lunch with us?”

Bitty’s head snaps up and he manages a somewhat convincing smile. “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I?”

Jack nods and Bitty’s smile grows almost wistful.

Jack wishes he could fix it.

 

* * *

 

“Eric, please stay still.”

Bitty looks away from the car window and throws Jack a glare. He has to swallow down a laugh; Eric Bittle is many things but intimidating is not one of them.

“Well I’m sorry that I’m nervous. Aren’t you even a little bit anxious?”

Jack wants to say _I’m anxious all the time_ , but thinks better of it. Instead he shrugs and replies, “Yeah, I guess.”

Bitty gives him an even nastier glare. “‘Yeah, I guess?’ I swear, Jack, I could strangle you-”

“Don’t ruin my suit,” Jack teases and laughs when Bitty’s eyes narrow.

“Bless your heart, Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” Bitty hisses. “ _Bless-- your-- heart_.”

Jack snorts. “You’re not very threatening, Bitty.”

“Oh, that is _it_ , I am never making you another pecan pie ever again.”

Jack nearly chokes. “What? That is way too drastic!”

“I stand by my word.” Bitty says and crosses his arms for emphasis.

“Eric,” Jack pleads.

“Jack.”

Jack pulls into a parking spot, not noticing the banquet hall that’s decorated with NHL Draft banners. He’s too busy staring wide-eyed at Bittle.

“Bitty, please.”

Bitty just sticks his nose up in the air. Oh, this is _ridiculous_. “Nope.”

Jack leans forward, over the console, and Bitty’s eyes snap open. “ _Je regrette, ma lumiére. S’il te plaît, pardonne-moi. Je sais que tu nerveux, mais s’il te plaît détends. Ne t’inquiète pas, mon amour. Je serai bien. Maintenant, s’il te plaît me promettre de me faire plus de la tarte_.”

Bitty stares at him for a moment before saying slowly, “I have no idea what you just said, but okay. I forgive you.”

Jack grins. “ _Merci beaucoup, ma coeur_.”

“Please speak English.”

“Okay.”

If Jack is grinning far too wide for what’s considered normal, he doesn’t care.

* * *

  
Jack loves hockey very much, but he does not care for drafts.

Once he gets over the shock and euphoria of being signed onto the Falconers he realizes that everything is extremely dull. Sure, he likes to meet his new coach and teammates but it’s all dragging on.

The banquet food wasn’t even that good. Jack knows it’s rude to think that, but it really was terrible. How do you mess up steak? It’s _steak_ -

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack suddenly sees Bitty making his way through the crowd. His head is ducked down as if not to draw attention to himself as he slips out one of the doors.

“Are you alright, Jack?” The coach’s voice rings through and Jack refocuses. Everyone is staring at him, frowning slightly.

Jack forces a nod, even if it seems mechanic. “Yes, I’m fine. Just-- just give me a moment. Excuse me.”

The coach and other teammates part for him, still noticeably suspicious. Jack doesn’t mind, just locks his gaze on the door Bitty walked out of.

He manages to make his way through the crowd, who watches him go in confusion. _Tell him_ is the only thing Jack is thinking. _Tell him now or you’ll regret it_.

Jack steps outside. The wind hits his face, gentle and carrying the smell of flowers. The Sun is setting, pink and orange streaking across the sky. The stars are beginning to shine and the moon peeks out from behind a cloud. It’s all an afterthought, though, because all Jack is paying attention to is Bittle, who looks up from the steps when he notices Jack.

He perks up. “Oh! Hey! You should be inside, meeting your new coach and everything.”

Jack doesn’t even think. He replies, “Well, the only person who matters is right here.”

Bitty’s eyes widen and he stammers out, “O-Oh.”

Jack sits, heartbeat rising rapidly.

Bitty swallows then says, “I’m not really that important. I’m just here for support, you know?”

“Of course you’re important,” Jack says, wiping the perspiration from his hands onto his slacks.

A blush begins to creep up onto Bitty’s cheeks. “Well,” he chokes out. “Thank you, but-”

“You’re amazing and don’t ever doubt that, Eric,” Jack continues, leg starting to bounce out of sheer anxiety. “You’re kind and hard-working and selfless and I-”

Bitty watches as Jack shoots up and starts pacing. This is going to be harder than he thought.

“Jack?” Bitty asks, voice tight and face a deep shade of scarlet.

“Y-You make me better,” Jack manages. “Not only at hockey, but-- but in _everything_. I-- You-”

Bitty stares. Jack wants a hole to appear right below his feet and suck him up whole, but he stands his ground. No going back now. So Jack takes a deep breath and goes on.

“I’m staying in Boston for you. Not for Samwell or anything else, but. Eric-”

“...Jack?” Bitty says quietly and something inside him snaps.

Jack mutters, “Oh, fuck it,” and walks forward. Bitty’s eyes widen at each step and he starts to say something but Jack cuts him off, kneeling down to press their lips together.

It’s a hard kiss, not as gentle as Jack had been imagining it to be. The contact makes Bitty gasp and Jack almost pulls away, but then. Oh, but then Bitty’s hands gently grab onto Jack’s wrists and he tilts his head in order to kiss back properly and Jack knows that he’ll die happy.

The kiss turns soft and Jack can taste the champagne on Bitty’s lips. One of Bitty’s fingers slips in between Jack’s and curls around them.

Jack’s lungs feel as if they’re about to explode and he pulls away, gasping for air.

Bitty’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at Jack. His lips are staggeringly red and something flutters inside Jack’s chest.

“O-Oh my god,” Bitty manages.

Jack feels himself beginning to smile. “Don’t blaspheme, Eric,” he says softly, but Bitty doesn’t pay attention, just stares in disbelief.

“Oh my god, are we-- did we just-- oh my _god_ ,” he stammers, “Are we really doing this?”

That makes Jack stop for a moment. Before he can second guess himself he says, “Do you want to?”

Bitty nods quickly, a smile creeping across his lips. “Yes, _of course_ , you dork. Come here.”

Their lips meet again and Jack can’t resist the urge to smile. Bitty laughs into his mouth, reaching up to fully take Jack’s hand. Jack’s smile grows when he realizes how small Bitty’s hands are compared to his.

It’s not a proper kiss, not in the slightest. Their teeth keep clicking together and Jack keeps letting out breezy giggles, but it’s the best he’s ever had.

Bitty is the one who pulls away this time, eyes twinkling. Jack leans forward and kisses his chin, causing Bitty to let out an airy laugh. It sends a tingle running down Jack’s spine.

“Leave with me,” he says breathlessly.

Bitty’s eyebrows knit together. “Jack, you have to stay. You can’t just _leave_.”

“Yeah, well, I’m blowing this popsicle stand. I want to take you out to get pizza,” Jack replies matter-of-factly, jumping to his feet.

“Pizza,” Bitty says slowly.

“Pizza.”

Bitty shrugs and stands as well, reaching out and taking Jack’s hand. For something so new, it feels achingly familiar, like second nature.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go then.”

Jack lets out something somewhere between a screech and a childish squeal, and takes off down the steps, dragging Bitty with him. Bitty shrieks but doesn’t let go.

 ****  



End file.
